Delightful Domestications

First published January 24, 2009

Housework will never be one of my first loves. There may be a few of you gifted individuals out there that find great satisfaction in glistening white tube socks, but alas I have yet to find such joy.

Coming to Cairo, however, I did find myself longing to do some of the normal things that I’ve always “had” to do. I wanted to wash clothes, cook meals and miracle of all miracles--dust. I think I must have contracted a rare virus to cause such symptoms.

I was knee-deep in laundry when we received a knock at the door. A young man smiled broadly and handed John a flyer telling all about laundry services. “Whoopee!” I yelled, “I am likin’ this city.” John closed the door and handed me the flyer with a smirk on his face. I began perusing the flyer flipping it over and groaning. It was all in Arabic. The only thing I can read for sure are numbers. Slumping on the couch I realized that I would have to figure out this laundry thing by myself.

I went into our bathroom and began to look at the mini-washer that our flat came equipped with. It had a pictoral guide, but it made no sense to me. I did thankfully notice that the drain hose needs to be in the bathtub prior to use. (Chalk one up for keen awareness.)

The built-in "flip guide" on the washer.

The little guide said that the letter “A” would 40/90/flower/rain/swirl/drain--in that order. Letter “D” would 40/flower/swirl/drain. I chose letter “D.” You had to push in the knob to get to the letter of choice. Then I waited. Nothing happened. I tried to push the 3 other light up buttons on the contraption, but nothing worked. I turned the dial a little bit and then a lot just in case it was temperamental. Still nothing. Checking to see if the mini-washer would fit through the mini-window, I called John as a last resort. 

He walked over to the washer and rather than push the knob in, he pulled it. Immediately the water began to fill the tub. He began whistling and walked back into the living room. I pushed the button back in because I hadn’t put any clothes into this front loading washer and I had to see if it really was that simple. It was.

I chose some items and began putting them in. Around 4 shirts and the machine was full. I looked at the pile of laundry to be washed and then looked at the pitiful amount in the washer. By John's calculations I should be done in July.

I started the load, gave myself a mental pat on the back and began humming. Humming?! I think the virus is worsening. I was...enjoying my laundry moment. Quick! Someone call a doctor. Thinking the symptoms would subside I began sorting things in the house and dare I say it? Dusting! I should be in quarantine.

Checking on the washer every so often, I realized that those 4 shirts were getting the cleaning of their lives. The short cycle is by my calculations 1 hour and 30 minutes. Once they were finished I needed to hang them up. I put them on hangers and hung them on the shower rod. (Dryers are not used in this climate.)

Dryer #1

Needing to feel a bit more productive with the laundry, I did a load of whites. This allowed me to place at least 20...uh...items in the washer. Woo hoo! An hour and a half later, wah-lah! clean whites. Now I had to figure out where to hang them.

Our flat has a 1 foot wide balcony with a clothesline attached to the left side of it. It is approximately 5 feet long and has 5 strands of line for hanging. My problem is vertigo. Every time I even think about hanging something out there my stomach drops. Plus I’m wondering how strong the clothespins have to be to survive a gale force wind 12 stories up. Plus I’m mortified to think of the flying unders sailing through the city should these little mechanisms fail. I vote “no” on the clothesline and begin stringing delicates through the house like garland at Christmas.

John will definitely have to adjust since he’s the only male in this household. He should be prepared for shocking welcomes in every room he visits. Once I found a place for all of those I did one more load. Not because I was out of time, but because I was out of places to hang our items.

I called the girls together and said that if they had something in particular they needed to wear they would need a 2 day start on the process. During these winter months in Egypt, it takes 36-48 hours for the heavier items to dry.

Dryer #2

So this morning I went to check on all the clothes strung all over the house. Most were dry and so stiff they could be leaned up against the wall without help. The jeans will need a few more hours to dry and probably rewashed. It seems we wanted to be prepared wherever we went during the “Intestinal Issues Episode” and left emergency toiletpaper folded in each pocket of our pants. (Rewashing is a SMALL price to pay. Trust me.)

The weird thing is, I don’t mind. Any piece of normal is welcome to me right now. I feel accomplished and competent. Oh, well. I’m sure this virus is short-lived and I’ll be burning the midnight oil trying to translate the laundry flyer laying on my dining room table very soon.

The Fam in Cairo--End of Day 3

First published January 4, 2009

It's after 11 here and the jetlag is wearing off. I'm actually tired so this note will be rather short. We ventured out to the souk (market) today. After gesturing to the taxi driver and pointing to the Arabic word in our handy-dandy flip guide he zipped off and dropped us in the middle of a gigantic open air market. Immediately we were pushed along by local shoppers who knew exactly what they wanted and where they wanted to go. We on the other hand were wide-eyed and slow to start.

John took off in a direction and motioned for us to follow. Through the tiny little corridors where hundreds of years of ancient trade had taken place we were first greeted by Mark.

"I was born in Ohio. I come to Egypt when I am two. I speak good English. You come look at my hundred year shop." My husband smiled and told him, "Okay."

We each were given a seat in a tiny little space. He addressed Emileigh as Cleopatra, Aria as Nefertiti, John as Ramses and myself as Queen of the Nile. He was quite a showman. He began smearing a wide variety of perfumes on us and telling us that he "makes us a good deal for perfume which will not spill on plane."

He and John bartered back and forth for several minutes. We finally began our exit to declare our displeasure with his prices. He pulled John back in and within a few minutes John was the proud owner of official Egyptian perfume for his queens. : )

We continued through the alleys bobbing and weaving and dodging every possible type of mercantile item. Women carried baskets on their heads. Men used dollies to carry their burden of goods through uneven streets.

One young man struck a conversation with us. He asked the general questions most do until he began inquiring "how many years" Emileigh had. We didn't know it then, but he was preparing to offer 10,000 camels for her. Our conversation quickly ended and I gave a very good don't-even-think-about-it mother glare.

By nature my mouth is much braver than the rest of me. So while I talk about these adventures as if they are second nature to me, they really aren't. I am inclined to build a cocoon at the hotel and wait for some nice person to come show me everything. However, that's not how you assimilate so with the nudging of the rest of my adventurous family I went. I'm glad I did. I'll know next time to steer clear of "how many years" questions.

Mark, our perfume seller

We had a wild taxi ride back from the market. (Wild in a foreign country means really, really, really wild...) We rested a bit when John announced that he had made arrangments for us to go on a Nile dinner cruise. That sounded like fun. We had been originally scheduled to find an apartment, but the school employee couldn't meet us until Sunday morning. So our time opened up.

We were picked up at our door by Mahmud.

He was punctual and nicely dressed. He drove us through the downtown area of Cairo which is modern and spectacular. He escorted us to a large boat with 3 levels. It was decorated in Christmas lights. He took us right to the middle of the boat where the table was set next to some instruments.

Pretty soon a several bus loads of Asian tourists arrived and filled in all the blank spots around us. Our evening began when the band members began to sing in broken English Stevie Wonders song, "I just called to say I love you." I was singing along and having a great time. He moved on to Lionel Richie and again I knew all the words. If they had had a karaoke contest I would have totally dominated.

Dinner was announced and we went to a buffet full of salads, breads, desserts and meats. The longer I'm here the more I'm convinced I signed up for some secret weight loss program through vegan means. My husband loves the healthy lifestyle. I almost jumped out a window when I saw a Twinkies sign. We all adjust differently.

After dinner to our initial amusement and then turned horror a belly dancer appeared. Our escort made sure we had front row seats. John was doing an indepth study of the tablecloth and chandelier. In what seemed like the world's longest dance, she finally finished. We were then entertained by a little person who twirled and wore skirts. He flipped and flapped them to the oohs and aahs of all the tourists surrounding him. I wasn't sure if I should clap or be horrified. A big man came and finished out the twirling show. He came over to Aria to ask for a picture and John nodded "no" at him. He later intimated to the audience that we were flowers and John was a devil. John said that was just fine.

We thought for sure our ship was about to dock when the bellydancer came out for a final performance. Again the Nile River took on amazing fascination for all of us.

Our ship literally finally came in and we practically ran for the exit. Mahmud was signaling for us to go with him and we gave no protest. We let the rest of the tourists stay for pictures with the performers. He drove us back to our hotel and offered to take us to see the pyramids. We told him "another day." 

I believe we've had enough excitement with the "live" Egyptians for one day. We'll wait on the ancestors until later...

Whirling Dervish...well, whirling

The Fam in Cairo--Day 2

First published January 2, 2009

I think we slept a total of 12 hours before realizing that the breakfast hours for the hotel were almost over. (Sleep is very good by the way in a new location so we were grateful for it.) We bounded out of bed and zipped downstairs to catch the last few minutes of their continental breakfast offerings. This wouldn't have been a big deal except we have no idea where another restaurant is so we thought we should sieze the moment. We entered a smoke-filled room with one man reading a newspaper in the corner and another sitting near the front smoking a cigarette. Our little family sat down and waited to see what would happen next. There was no obvious process so we were looking around for cues.

Our waiter smiled at us and asked us if we wanted breakfast. We nodded yes. He then asked us if we wanted coffee, tea or turkish tea. We answered Turkish tea. Frankly, we had no idea what that would involve, but hey we're in Egypt so why not be adventurous?

He brought us a basket of breadsticks with jams, cream cheese and butter. Also on a plate was a boiled egg for each of us. Aria said, "Hey, it's better than the Toast Bar we had at that one hotel in Missouri..." We prayed giving God thanks for the food, the hotel, kind strangers, our safe travels and praying friends.

We ate and then started thinking about getting a couple bottles of water so we could brush our teeth upon return. It was 3.50 Egyptian pounds which is about 60 cents American if my math serves me right--which it rarely does not so don't count this as accurate.

During the meal we began setting small goals for ourselves for today. 1) Find a blowdryer that works with 220 electricty; 2) Find a diet Coke outside the hotel 3) Find our way back to the hotel after walking around or at least be able to hail a taxi who knows where the hotel is...small steps. As wise friends counseled, "This is a marathon, not a sprint."

So now John is digging through suitcases trying to set up a mock ironing board to try and get some of the wrinkles out of our clothes after us using those fabulous space bags that conserve so much space. What they don't tell you is that the wrinkles are pretty well permanent until washing. Oh, yeah. We'll need a washer, too. One thing at a time, Pam. One thing at a time.